Chapter 1047: Factions, Ideas, and Entering the City

"We did it!"

Pedro's face was filled with incredible joy. News from the "frontline" kept arriving via telegraph: their forward units had reached the edge of Zhuolan and could enter the long-desired city at any moment.

The faces of all the rebel leaders were alight with fanatical excitement. Their cause, at this very moment, had reached its peak!

Pedro handed the telegraph to the others and paced back and forth. "I've ordered the advance troops not to enter the city yet. We will wait until we arrive and enter together."

"In the stance of victors!" His voice was significantly louder, and everyone's face was brimming with excitement.

Pedro's gaze lingered on each man. "Gentlemen, we need to prepare ourselves. At least, the moment we step into the Presidential Palace, we should look more presentable, shouldn't we?"

Everyone burst into laughter. They were already fantasizing about walking into the Presidential Palace with their heads held high, impeccably dressed, under the reporters' flashbulbs, to stand next to the tyrant Diego for a photograph.

Of course, the photo wouldn't be about their friendship, but about Diego—the dictator, the tyrant—whose rule was finally ending!

This was indeed encouraging news. Soon, most of the leaders left. They needed to pull out their best clothes and finest accessories, striving to make themselves look like dazzling peacocks for the coming day.

But a few people remained, such as Lance's "students" and several others who were genuinely intelligent.

Pedro watched their expressions, which were no longer excited, but rather filled with an unshakeable scrutiny. "Aren't you going back to prepare?"

"We will reach Zhuolan by the day after tomorrow, at the latest."

Ross sat silently to the side, and the other "classmate" also remained quiet.

A rebel leader from the "civilian" ranks looked at Pedro and asked, "What do we do about the concession?"

"Do we kill Diego or spare him?"

"What kind of government are we going to form?"

The smile on Pedro's face gradually disappeared. He looked at the three men beside the speaker, and a word suddenly popped into his mind—factions.

The other man met his gaze without fear. Right now, everyone's armies were completely mixed up. It would take time to re-assign their own men, so they were not afraid of Pedro suddenly attacking them.

Furthermore, if Pedro actually did that, the rebel coalition army would immediately collapse, given that Pedro currently had the most power.

The other leaders, to avoid becoming the next targets, would surely flee at once.

Pedro sat back down. He lit a cigarette—not a high-grade one, but one he had rolled himself from ordinary tobacco leaves.

Though it didn't have the mellow fragrance of Federal imported cigarettes, it at least satisfied their nicotine craving.

The moment the nicotine entered his lungs and was absorbed by the membrane, his focus sharpened. "First, the issue of the concession."

"Lance has the Federal people behind him. If we try to take the concession back, it is highly likely to infringe upon the interests of Lance, the Federal people behind him, and even the Federal government."

"In that case, we won't be facing the likes of Diego's government..." He curled his lip and shook his head, looking disdainful, "...such an unprofessional force, but the professional, better-equipped Federal army."

"So, on the concession issue, my personal opinion is to respect the facts."

His statement was met with continued silence in the room. The men below were angry and displeased with the concept of the concession; some soldiers had mentioned wanting to eradicate it, but the reality was they couldn't.

Observing their silence, Pedro knew they had essentially reached an agreement on this matter; otherwise, someone would have opposed his view.

No one did, which indicated general agreement.

"As for parts of the 'Zhuolan Treaty,' I believe we can talk to Lance and the Federal government about things like tariffs and market supply."

The "Zhuolan Treaty" signed by Lance and Diego previously addressed tariffs. Diego had borrowed a considerable amount of money from Lance. Besides leasing the land to Lance, he also had to exempt all goods sold on that land from taxes, as well as exempting all Federal goods entering the port from any customs duties.

Furthermore, in a supplementary clause, if the Rapa government failed to repay the loans owed to Lance and the Federal government (principal and interest) within a certain period, the customs authority would be transferred to the Federal government until the debt was settled.

These clauses caused extremely severe damage to the Rapa government's power and the national sovereignty of Rapa.

They might not be able to resolve the concession issue, but Pedro felt these other problems were negotiable.

"I can negotiate with the Jede Republic government for a loan, pay off a portion of the debt first, and amend some of the clauses, or achieve a certain degree of reduction."

"Completely tearing up the 'Zhuolan Treaty' is impossible, and no one will allow us to do it."

Someone slammed the table. "That cursed Diego, he left us a massive problem!"

Pedro sighed. Making such a decision was an act of helplessness and powerlessness. If he could change it, he certainly would, but he couldn't.

No one else could either.

"As for the government we are to form..."

He frowned, and the smoke he exhaled slowly diffused, filling the room, which encouraged the others to start smoking as well.

"I detest the Federal government, and I don't like Lance, even though he provided a great enlightenment and impetus for our cause."

"In my heart, Lance White, this Federal man, can even be called the 'Father of Rapa's Free Spirit.' If not for him, perhaps our flame of liberty would not have been lit, nor could the cause of liberation have advanced."

"But that doesn't stop me from disliking him. He is no different from those Federal people and the Federal government—greedy, evil, and corrupt!"

"I dislike everything about them, yet I like their governmental structure. So, my idea is that we should learn from them, but not copy them completely."

"A president—a supreme role—possesses too many privileges!"

"Our country, the education level of our citizens, and even ourselves, cannot ensure true fairness and justice. If another tyrant and dictator like Diego appears, for example..."

He smiled. "If I were to become like that in my later years, the damage I would inflict on this country would be far greater than Diego's."

"Therefore, my idea is that we do not establish the position of president. We use the 'Rapa Joint Parliament' as the highest ruling body, with twenty-seven members elected from the twenty-seven regional tribal states to jointly participate in the nation's governance and construction."

"I favor a voting system. This reflects our seriousness and prudence in addressing issues. We are the country's administrators, and we supervise and check each other."

As he spoke, the expressions on the faces of some—indeed, most—of the people in the room softened and relaxed.

However, a very small number showed less agreeable expressions. Ross, for example, frowned, his face showing a subtle, perceptible resistance.

Pedro noticed this, having kept an eye on Ross. "Do you have any additions to my idea?"

Seeing Pedro address him, Ross changed his posture. "I just don't understand. If we don't have a president, if we don't have a... I don't know how to describe it."

"It's like a large family without a patriarch, only a group of uncles and aunts. How do the family members at the bottom know exactly who to obey, whose orders to follow?"

"Do they listen to this Rapa parliament, or do they listen to the member they elected?"

"Won't this cause us to be united on the surface but fragmented in reality?"

Ross leaned back in his chair, tapping his hand on the table. "For instance, my men—they only listen to me and won't follow your decisions, or the parliament's decisions. What then?"

"Do we fight a civil war?"

"I don't think this will work. Why does the Federation need a president? Perhaps it's to ensure everyone knows, at least outwardly, who they should obey."

He looked at Pedro. "You said you admire the Federation's government structure. Why don't we just use theirs? It's mature and stable. We can simply simplify it to suit our situation."

"There's no need to specially create something untested. That is not the action of a wise man, Pedro."

Pedro was not irritated by Ross's comments; he merely smiled. "I was only proposing a suggestion, my point of view. Your preference for a president, your desire to fully replicate the Federation's government structure, is also an option. I have no reason to object."

"As for how this matter will ultimately be decided, my view is that we should discuss it after we have completely stabilized the situation."

"Also, don't forget, the other leaders are unaware of this conversation."

"They also contributed to overthrowing Diego's rule, and they should share in the spoils of this success."

Ross gave him a sidelong glance, nodded, and remained silent.

They were just a group of anti-government forces who had barely touched the edge of the spoils of victory, yet before the spoils were fully secured, internal rifts had already begun to appear, along with factions and opposition.

Sometimes, people fail at things not because they lack ability, but precisely because their abilities are too great—excessively so!

The more knowledge people possess and the more they experience, the more dangerous their thoughts become.

After concluding the discussion—which solved some problems but left larger ones unresolved—everyone returned to their respective areas to prepare for entering Zhuolan.

Meanwhile, the situation in Zhuolan was grim.

The defeated soldiers had repeatedly ransacked the wealthy western parts of the city. Had the Presidential Palace not been heavily guarded, they might have looted it twice before leaving.

Large numbers of defeated soldiers hijacked ships large and small to escape, but many soldiers had no means of leaving and could only continue south, attempting to cross the border into a neighboring country.

Undoubtedly, these people would become a major headache for the neighboring country and a diplomatic issue the new government would urgently need to resolve.

However, none of this concerned Lance. Lance sat in his headquarters office. If Diego were here, he would see many of his own ministers and key government officials currently gathered there.

It was as if... Lance was the president of the country, not him.

"Pedro and his group won't enter the city for two days. That timing is just right."

Lance placed the intelligence report on the table. He looked at the "leaders" of the various tribal states.

The Rapa government was essentially a large, improvised structure formed by local tribal state leaders. The Ravila family was the largest and most powerful tribal state, which was why they had continually monopolized the presidency.

The leaders and chieftains of the other tribal states became ministers and officials, a form of power distribution based on strength.

The Ravila family and its most loyal allies had been utterly defeated and destroyed, but the strength of these ministers and the tribal states behind them remained intact.

Together, these individuals could still mobilize 400,000 to 500,000 soldiers. With the supply of advanced Federal weapons and unlimited ammunition, their odds of winning against the rebel army were unbelievably high.

This was because, since the "Battle for Zhuolan" began, the Federation had completely cut off supplies to both Diego's government army and the rebel army. Every bullet they fired was one less; their funds were dwindling; and their medicine was mostly gone.

Pedro might naively believe that by taking the Presidential Palace, eliminating Diego, and announcing a new government, everything would fall into place.

He didn't realize that Lance had never considered giving him a chance—he wouldn't be given any chance at all!

Now, these 400,000 to 500,000 heavily armed soldiers were rushing from all over to "defend the capital." The anti-government forces, men like Pedro, were like wild dogs locked in a room, without even the right to run away.

When Senator Cleveland first heard Lance's complete plan, he couldn't help but marvel at it.

From the initial "release" to the final "collection," everything was under Lance's control.

Using Rapans to fight Rapans, the Federation wouldn't need to deploy troops. It could wipe out everyone with a spirit of resistance and unrealistic fantasies, securing a stable, manageable Rapa for the Federation.

Whether to directly annex and occupy the country or to control it indirectly would be decided by the Federal government.

Just like now, the moment these forces quickly entered the Zhuolan area and formed an encirclement would be the moment the rebel army was destroyed.

Their entry into Zhuolan in two days—was it not also the countdown to the end of their lives?

Lance's words were met with nodding affirmation from the ministers below. They, too, were excited. What was the purpose of defecting and betraying the country?

Wasn't it to live better?

Now their families had already gone to the Federation and become Federal citizens. Their children would receive a Federal elite education and potentially enter Federal high society after graduation.

Being a tribal chieftain in a backward, poor country like Rapa was inferior to being a wealthy and powerful person in the Federation!

They naturally agreed 100% to Lance's demands.

The Minister of Foreign Affairs was the first to defect to Lance, and his status among this group of "betrayers" was relatively high.

Calling them betrayers might not be entirely accurate, as they were aligned with Lance and the Federal government. "Pro-progress individuals" might be a better fit.

"Mr. Lance, once these anti-government forces are eliminated, what should we do next?"

Lance glanced at him. "I will tell you what comes next after you've completed this task."

"You don't need to worry. The promises I and the Federal government made to you will definitely be honored. You have no need to fear."

"Furthermore, once you are in the Federation, I will submit a report to the Senator and Congress to establish a new department for you."

"At that time, wealth and power—you will lack neither."

This made everyone extremely excited!

"In short, take it step by step. Tell your people not to do anything foolish, and not to cause destruction. We want a stable Rapa, not a ruined country."

Soon, these gentlemen began to relay the message. The soldiers, already prepared in their tribal states, began packing their equipment and boarding trains destined for the Zhuolan region.

The silent trains were like deadly arrows aimed at the heart of the rebel army—fatal and dangerous.

After several days of chaos, Zhuolan returned to calm, but this was a calm that few people welcomed.

It felt as if a giant hand was pressing down on the city from the sky. Even the air became thick and heavy, suffocating everyone.

At nine in the morning, the rebel army began to enter the city. Pedro and his men always claimed to act "in the name of the people," so their discipline was not too bad.

Only a few people stood on the streets to watch them enter the city. The people of Zhuolan, having been thoroughly traumatized by the previous defeated soldiers, no longer trusted these new entrants.

This was Pedro's fourth or fifth time entering Zhuolan; he himself had slightly forgotten.

He used to come here as a teacher to send people on boats to attend university in the Jede Republic.

But this time, he arrived with a different mission, in the capacity of a conqueror. The feeling was completely different.

They soon arrived at the Presidential Palace, completely unhindered. The entire palace was practically deserted; the heavy guard of the previous two days was mostly gone.

Gazing at the magnificent, palace-like Presidential Palace, Pedro stood at the foot of the steps and watched for a long time.

Then, with the smile of a victor, he ascended the steps.

In this moment, this was the absolute peak of the middle school teacher's life!